Oh, how the Dark Lord hath fallen!
by lil' augurey
Summary: Just a little something that has been bugging me for a while that might not become an actual story. An agent of Death reveals disturbing news to a distraught Dark Lord about an interesting quest he started in a past life. Not to mention ironic!


A/N: I suppose I owe you guys an explanation. Forgive me since it's a little late. I don't expect anyone to read this, but this was a piece I was determined to get out of my head. I don't mean for the reaper to be anything more than an original character and as for the plot... Yeah, it's dribble, but I might edit that later... ;

Disclaimer: If I owned Voldemort and 'Deathly Hallows', I'd be RICH and be able to get through college without having to find a work-study job... uu That, unfortunately, is not the case. Enjoy.

The sight was unbearable for the defeated Dark Lord as the cheers of victory echoed in the damaged Great Hall. He stood in shock, his mouth hanging open, eyes twitching, the slits where his nose should have been flaring like a bull about to charge a red curtain, for he was indeed seeing red. Certainly, he must have gone delirious. There he was, circling his enemy, that smug, no-talent Potter boy and he remembered the spell that should have ended it all… ended him instead.

Now, his body is being dragged across the floor like roadkill into nothing more than a broom closet, left to rot. This… This is what he truly feared. He clenched his shaking fists and hung his head, shutting his eyes, avoiding the situation at hand. He couldn't feel any sting from his long nails against his palm, the pounding of his wrist against his skull or his feet against the floor, he could only see and hear inside his mind the downfall of his glorious reign and the visions that were to come tossed away and blitzed into billions of pieces like china plates against tile.

Sinking to his knees, he started to compose himself. Perhaps, it was only a nightmare. After all, what happened in the forest in Albania so many years ago felt much like the setting now, only this felt so much more… real. As if this had happened before.

Still unable to come to terms with himself, he tried to figure out what he was now. Certainly, not a ghost. He wasn't even a full soul at this point; the horcruxes made that indisputable. At this point, he was only a small part of what he concocted, just another piece of soul.

Funny, though, he thought. I died where I was truly born as a wizard, here at the heart of this magnificent castle. It's too bad. Such history has probably been destroyed by the enemies' profound resistance.

"But much more history has been made this night. You can see: it lies thick within the broken and intact stone alike," From behind him, a girl's voice, contemplative and only loud enough to be audible, struck through his ears over the noise of the crowd in front of him, echoing off the rubble and debris for what seemed like an eternity. It was that voice that brought him more fear than anything in his entire lifetime and for this reason, he could not bring himself to look behind him.

"Can you not turn around? Must I face you and prolong the suspense in the process? Come now, boy, I am not what you fear," she asked briskly and then giggled for a short time afterward, "Although, a smidgeon of fear in your case may be the best way to get you up and going."

He stood slowly and asked maliciously of the voice, "Why should I fear such a cretin as-?"

Voldemort turned his head to finish his insult, but found himself speechless as he stared into the navy blue eyes of a girl who looked no older than 17, who sat on the stone steps where he had fallen and hugged her knees staring back with a small smile that danced on her lips. She nodded, her long black hair falling in front of her shoulders, moving her black beret closer down her forehead.

"You… What are you?" he raised his hand slightly and pointed a long, bony finger at her. Her eyes gave him a sense of familiarity, like he had been standing in front of her like this before.

She gave a full toothy smile now and stood, spinning a full 360 degrees to prevent herself from falling over, "Hah! I knew you could do it! Might be a little late, but I might consider this as a pass."

She pointed at him now with utmost certainty, her finger poking his chest, but he just stared at her, growling in agitation and pulled his arm close to him, clenching a fist. He thought for a moment that he could feel a faint, dull pain making itself known in his skull. He closed his eyes and noticed it was only his imagination… or he imagined that was what he would be feeling if he weren't dead.

"Just answer my question. I am in no mood for this, this…. Cryptic speak. What did I pass, seeing as I just _died_? What did I do?" he flung his arms behind him and spoke in a cut-and-dry tone.

For those who were more familiar with the Dark Lord Voldemort, they would take these questions with shock from either surprise or pleasure. It wasn't his usual impatient explosion of an outburst mostly encountered by his followers and many victims, nor was it a coercing question, his usual method of persuasion, mostly encountered by a few teachers… and many victims of the same nature. Instead, he spoke out of basic necessity. If Voldemort could figure out what she spoke about, maybe he could get more answers to more questions that he had forming in his mind.

The girl in front of him, however, dropped her finger and shifted her mouth to the side quizzically. For further ponderment, she rubbed her chin between her left thumb and forefinger, her other arm she used as a foundation under her left elbow and began to pace back and forth in front of him, muttering about 'last time'.

He rolled his eyes and exhaled with a slight groan and dropped to his rump on the dais, his almost non-existent cheeks pulled back by his wrists as he looked at the dispersing crowd either caring for the injured, weeping over the dead, or hugging each other in relief. Long blonde hair caught his attention as the Malfoys were doing all three actions with each other and his tempermental attitude flared inside him, but he felt as if his anger were being quenched by the odd serene atmosphere and the pat-pat-patting of the girl's footsteps behind him. Perhaps there could be an explanation for all of the scenes before him. The sun rising, the defenders of the castle in their ragged, but very much relieved state of body and mind, him sitting on the steps but not feeling a single thing…

A sigh separated him from his thoughts and he turned to find the girl sitting next to him, back straight, ankles crossed, arms hanging from her side, with her eyes gazing ahead of her, focused on nothing, her smile replaced with blank emotion, lips curved to a near-frown. The image brought about a sense of a finished meditation.

"It usually takes me a while to explain the present situation to someone of your kind. The newly dead, anyways." She plucked a strand of hair from her scalp, which suddenly turned rigid and enlarged to reach a height of six feet as two handles grew outward from opposite sides. Not a split second later, the top of the staff produced a metal curve flashing like a vampire tooth whilst a burst of sparks created swirly etchings into the staff, completing the transformation as the girl rested it upon her shoulder.

"You asked what I was and I shall not lie. I am a Reaper. You, however, may call me Alcyone. By what name shall I call you?" she stared straight ahead as she curled her body up into a resting position.

He sneered at her, at a question he found most ludicrous, "Hah, what name… I find the term 'My Lord' quite endearing myself. Don't you think so, Reaper?"

"Oh, I doubt those words will cross my lips in any decent conversation I hold with you or anyone else. However, I will be so gracious as to provide you the term 'wizard'," she continued before Voldemort could react, "So, your next question, if I recall correctly, was what I meant when I spoke of 'passing' and your actions to deem you as such."

She finally turned her gaze to his red, soulless snake-like eyes and she smiled deviously, "What do you believe in, wizard? What do you think happens to those who pass on?"

Voldemort responded tersely, his eyes twitching angrily, "I do not wish to discuss such matters nor have I ever pondered them during my lifetime! If there is any matter in your art, then you had best get to it!"

He was now a mere inch away from Alcyone's face, whose smile faded slightly and eyebrows now arched to their maximum.

"Did I touch a nerve? Well, so much for the part where I blow your mind… Ah, well, I don't have much choice but to sum up." She brought her scythe in front of the both of them to show their reflections. The only problem was that only Alcyone's form mirrored back, her eyes staying focused on the feared weapon.

"You are a special case, Voldemort, as you can tell from the reflection in the scythe's blade. Your reincarnation hundreds of years ago died of the Black Plague before he was given his final unction by the neighboring priest and, being a Catholic as many were at that time, a fellow Reaper of mine tossed him without a second thought into Perdition. He… Why are looking at me like that?" she turned her attention back to him to find that a mild mix of shock, disgust and disbelief had replaced anger and antipathy in his eyes, which blinked profusely while his lips twitched.

It took him longer than usual to state his response, "C-Catholic? That… _This _is the worst irony I have ever encountered. First, I, Lord Voldemort, most skilled and feared wizard of all time, end up getting killed by my own curse, then some Reaper in the form of a girl comes to tell me that in a past life I was _a fucking CATHOLIC_?"

He held his forehead in his hands and profusely rubbed his temples with his long, bony fingers when Alcyone explained, "No, your immediate past life was either gnostic, deist or uncaring when it came to religious matters. Now, will you let me finish? I'll even give you a treat if you don't interrupt me again."

Voldemort, however, didn't listen entirely and continued his short rant, "I can understand if he didn't care, though! I don't give a speck of thought to anything of the sort, but if he was Catholic, then he was a Muggle! Please tell me the son of a bitch wasn't a mudblood!"

He had grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently, expecting an answer before his anger exploded upon her, but he could have gotten as much response to his demand as a ragdoll.

Alcyone instead pinched his chin to the point where he winced and pulled him closer to her face, red eyes connecting with irate dark blue and she whispered malevolently, "I am not going to respond to such an impotent and puerile statement coming from a simple-minded, unreasonable lowlife like you. Your magic and love of power fucked you over in the end and yet, you think you are just as important now as you were when you were alive? I would pick your words very carefully here, _Voldemort_, as your fate rests in the very eyes you see before you, the very eyes that have watched you since before you were born. Now, shut up and listen to me or you will be stuck in an endless cycle of dying in the most ironic ways possible and will never be able to fulfill your goals."

She pushed his chin away in disgust, which caused him to nearly fall over, and composed herself to continue, "The soul that you now possess was condemned to his version of ultimate suffering and for this, he felt betrayed by what he believed to be a merciful God and soon made his escape, determined to instead roam the earth, going from one human to another, creating his own sort of reincarnation. This particular soul decided to hide away into a human body, which collapsed from the stress in his young adult stage. I happened to be responsible for him and made perhaps made one of the biggest and happiest mistakes of my life."

She stopped and sighed, bringing her scythe close to her and looking into the metal's reflection with a sincere smile, clearly taking pleasure in her reminiscence. So far, Voldemort was indeed having a hard time taking her story in, since he was starting to see himself as a Catholic Muggle and hated every second of it. But, being betrayed by the God he worshipped and escaping Hell with the determination to live on, free from religion... Now that sounded familiar. Not to mention interesting.

"Dare I ask what you did with him? Or is it getting to a point where I might have to close my ears to prevent any more unwanted thoughts?" he placed his fingers into the holes on the side of his head and childishly stuck out his forked tongue.

She smirked in response, "I made him my fledgling, assigning him the job of Reaper. You might say he was like my student."

Voldemort snorted to prevent himself from laughing and shook his head in disbelief, "This is getting to be too much. Why don't we skip a bit and get to the part about me. Where do I come in?"

"And make the summary even shorter? Well, I may as well, since you will have a busy time ahead of you," she continued before Voldemort raised his finger in protest, "At first, he wanted to at least have a reason to go into Hell, but when I made him a Reaper, he decided to remedy the situation that had once befallen him to keep others from experiencing what he already went through. To do so, he had to set up a slew of appointments with Time to make sure that he (who is now you) will be able to make a change in the very way we Reapers perform our duties, making sure people of all creeds are rinsed clean of the idea of 'Original Sin'. I'd explain further," she clambered up her scythe in order to stand and faced him with one hand on her hip, the other on her scythe, "But I'm afraid I'd waste your time. So, would you rather start fulfilling your goal now and figure out more on the way or do you want me to expound?"

Voldemort only stared back up at her, mouth slightly open in confusion as though she had spoken gibberish ever since the word 'Catholic' entered his ears. He stood up and tried to focus on this supposed quest before him.

After processing the information into phrases he could understand, he came up with one short statement, spouting with dejection, "You're telling me. That I. Am supposed to save these Catholics. From their version of eternal damnation."

"Well, not just Catholics…" she shrugged sheepishly and nodded, "But at least you get the concept."

It was at this point that the Reaper Alcyone experienced her first Voldy implosion, described by those who survived as "the closest imaginable to recieving the Dementor's Kiss".

But Alcyone just snickered as Voldemort shut his eyes so tight and seized up his jaw so hard that the temples upon his head were clearly visible, as he pressed his fingertips against them as he slowly, oh-so-slowly, walked up to Alcyone and opened his eyes just a sliver so that their eyes could meet for a short time...

before he, in one swift motion, flung open his eyes and wrapped his hands around her neck and proceeded to choke her long after she ceased to resist his infamous grip as he unleashed a string of incoherent verbal abuses and insults, sending all of the pressures and annoyance on his mind into his hands as they tightened around her throat.

Needless to say, Alcyone didn't appreciate it too much, but seeing as it didn't really harm her(no matter how forced a grip one has, the pain would be dull and throbbing at most), she decided to just wait it out until he vented.

This proved to be a very long time.


End file.
